


the most vicious outfits

by heroictype



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Canon Fashion Sense, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 12:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20008348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroictype/pseuds/heroictype
Summary: The desert grew cold at night. This was science. He'd known this before he ever came to Night Vale; even before he had specifically researched desert climates, after he accepted his fellowship. So he shouldn't have resented that fact.





	the most vicious outfits

**Author's Note:**

> minor warning for blood

Carlos did not regret his fashion choices.

He should have. It would have been the more rational option. What he was doing instead, was resenting the cold of the desert night. 

The desert grew cold at night. This was science. He'd known this before he ever came to Night Vale; even before he had specifically researched desert climates, after he accepted his fellowship. So he shouldn't have resented that fact. It was also a human impulse, scientifically speaking, to resent the way the world was - or the way he interpreted it: the end result of atmospheric shifts and weather patterns and the simple absence of sunlight - instead of regretting his decision not to wear a jacket. 

Or a shirt with sleeves. 

Or, in fact, a lab coat with sleeves. 

Sometimes, you just weren't in the mood for sleeves.  Sometimes, you were going out dancing with your husband, and you hypothesized correctly that the club would be hot, so you wore a crop top under your sleeveless lab coat. And anyway, you didn't usually like being touched, so you wanted to enjoy it when you did - your husband's hands around your waist, his arm wrapped in yours. Touch which made you feel at home in your own skin instead of wanting to crawl out of it, like most did. 

Sometimes, he just wasn't in the mood for sleeves. 

And this should have been fine, but they'd encountered a thorny variable. Cecil had helped Carlos out of the car with a gentlemanly hand, as always, and as always, he fished around casually in his fanny pack as they approached the house. Halfway up the walk, however, he was holding the flap up for a better look inside, and finally, he'd had to unclip it and pull out the contents piece by piece under the porch light.

"Did you forget your keys?" Carlos was already reaching into his lab coat pocket. "It's okay, sweetie, I've got… Oh."

He did not got, he realized. Or he did, rather, but in his usual daywear lab coat, which was currently hanging neatly in his side of the closet. 

"I don't got it," he corrected sadly. 

Cecil pursed his lips, zipped up his fanny pack, and let it dangle in his hand. He said, with a sense of finality, "Uh-oh."

Carlos clicked his tongue. "So did we ever replace the spare key under the mat after the Secret Police took it?"

"I mean, I don't know about you, but I forgot."

"I meant to add it to the to-do list for this weekend. But I forgot to do that, which means that the actual task absolutely did not get done."

So now they were outside, in the cold of the desert night, waiting for the locksmith to arrive. Carlos shivered. 

Cecil rubbed his husband's shoulders. "Are you alright, Carlos?" 

"Oh!" Carlos leaned back, and craned up to kiss Cecil's cheek. "Uh-huh. Just a little chilly, scientifically speaking."

"Oh, no, we can't have that," said Cecil, with perfect sincerity. He slipped his sweater over his head. It had a cat-shaped hole prominently in the chest of the neon pink fabric, but it also had long sleeves. The hole lined up with a similarly-shaped hole in his own tight tank top, but slightly asymetrically, for a fun effect. He held it out to Carlos "Here."

"Will  _ you _ be alright?" Carlos asked.

"Oh, definitely." Cecil smiled.

"Hmm. I guess you will. Especially if we share body heat." Carlos held up an index finger helpfully. "Outside of Night Vale, the average adult human body temperature is a range of 36.5–37.5 degrees Celcius, or 97.7–99.5 degrees Fahrenheit."

"Really? Neat!"

Carlos accepted the sweater, and let Cecil help him out of his lab coat. Cecil stood thoughtfully between Carlos and the street until the lab coat went over the sweater. The sleeves slid down to his fingertips. Carlos did not know Cecil's exact body temperature, or the average, but his warmth lingered in the fuzzy knit, radiating over Carlos' arms. Radiating. 

He felt it in his chest, not his heart, which was now beating quickly. He adjust the collar, tugging it up, and caught the smell - wooly, dizzying. His heart accelerated again. Again, he felt it somewhere below his ribs, where the bones came close to joining, and he shivered again. He was not cold. 

He looked up at his husband. His eyes caught on Cecil's, caught in the smile that was just for him, on the fact that Carlos could say that someone smiled just for him, and not just  _ anyone _ , but this man who was, scientifically, empirically, so wonderful - that was, full of wonder, scientifically speaking - and who loved him. It was not scientific, but it was not a hunch anymore, either. It was just a fact, no adjective needed.

Carlos wrapped his arms around Cecil, and pressed his face into the hair that showed through the cat cut-out. 

Cecil stroked the top of Carlos' head, and Carlos felt this, and the rise and fall of his husband's chest under him, and he loved these disparate rhythms even as he experienced them simultaneously. 

Their door opened in front of them. Quickly, reflexively, Carlos kissed Cecil's chest and Cecil kissed the top of Carlos' head as he took his hand away. They stepped apart, and the locksmith held out a hand from inside. Her palm was covered in dirt. They both bled a little into the dirt. The locksmith left. 

Inside, it was established that they were both thoroughly ready for bed, and sleep. They changed clothes, took medicine, brushed their teeth. Carlos folded up the sweater neatly, and smoothed down the fabric. He waited until Cecil came out of the bathroom, and then did not return it to him.

Carlos held it in both hands, instead, and said, "Hey. I'm borrowing this for a while. Can I borrow this for a while?"

"What? Oh. Sure!" Cecil shrugged, and slid into bed. "Honestly, it's cute on you. Most things are, but that does the thing where the sleeves get all floppy, and it's, like, super cute."

"Oh, you like that? Hmm." Carlos said, and tucked it into a drawer with his own shirts. "Anyway, thanks."

Cecil would get it back when the scent wore off. 


End file.
